


Dance With Me, Hana

by ethiiron



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Dancing, Depression, Emotional Support, Friendship, Haha get it because... Song...fic, Not Shippy, Other, PTSD, Songfic, they're just friends please let me live
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-24
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2018-09-19 17:56:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9453182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ethiiron/pseuds/ethiiron
Summary: Hana has had a difficult few weeks. She knew Overwatch would be taxing on her physical state, but she wasn't prepared for the effect it would have on her mental state. She leaves it up to Hanzo to help her out of her funk, and he knows just how to make her feel better.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my first Overwatch fanfiction!  
> The song is "I'm Yours" by Jason Mraz.  
> You can find me on tumblr under the username ethiiron.

Overwatch was notorious for its weird and wonderful cast of characters. The members of the newly reformed and highly illegal band of “heroes” were known among each other as being slightly strange at best (such as the Korean girl who spent a lot of time livestreaming battles, and reeling off terms only ‘gamers’ would understand in both English and Korean), and impossibly otherworldly at worst (such as the Japanese man who was quiet and reserved at the base, but often summoned magical spirit dragons on the battlefield to destroy his foes); the general public knew about the extraordinary personalities of this eclectic group of soldiers, engineers, doctors, scientists and criminals, but they had no idea how rowdy Watchpoint: Gibraltar became when the resident cyborg ninja poured too much coffee into the skinny Australian’s mug during breakfast, or when the resident World’s-Strongest-Woman challenged the walking, armour-clad mountain to a sparring match.

Yet these people were still soldiers, fighting a war in all four corners of the world, running on fumes, too much caffeine and an almost (definitely) illegal amount of immunity boosters courtesy of the aforementioned doctor. War, in every aspect, takes its toll.

On the physical level, countless members of Overwatch had lost their arms, their legs, their lives in some cases. Stray bullets hitting flesh in various parts of the body was more of an expectation than something to fret about, and McCree had joked after his seventh shrapnel extraction surgery of the year that it should be tacked on to the job application form as an occupational hazard. The toll of jumping, rolling, dodging, the strain of jogging to keep up with your superior during training, of running to the rendezvous with a storm of bullets following like hellhounds nipping at the heels of hell’s next arrival, of carrying the limp form of a teammate’s body over your shoulder and praying to whatever deity should happen to be passing by to throw some fortune your way were all regular experiences for these soldiers.

And on the mental level…

“I’m going to bed,” Genji stretched his arms above his head and yawned from behind his helmet, “and I would advise you to do the same, Hana.”

Hana smiled wearily in his direction and waved him off, making her way towards the kitchen, oblivious to how Genji had huffed and shook his head before taking off in the direction of his bedroom. They had just arrived back at Gibraltar after a gruelling flight, during which a storm had whipped up and the elements had battered their transport, but Tracer had ensured that they landed safely. The mission itself was as gruelling as the weather: a routine mission to ensure a payload generously gifted to Overwatch’s cause from a wealthy woman was delivered safely into their hands turned into a hostage situation in the middle of a crowded street in Paris. The payload made it safely; six civilians did not.

Hana had witnessed the young man drop to his knees in shock, the scarlet stain seeping out from his perfectly-tailored shirt, eyes wide in horror; she had hit the thrusters of her mech and yelled as she closed the gap between the terrorists and the group of terrified civilians, silencing the frenzied pleas of _oh god get me the hell out of here_ in her brain and allowing the trained, militaristic part of her brain to take over instead. Of course, since their operations were still illegal, they had bolted from the scene fairly quickly. Turning from the scene to board the dropship, something in Hana’s brain whispered _if only that had been me-_

That thought too had been silenced.

Thumbing the scanner to the entrance of the kitchen, the door slid open, revealing a well-lit open-plan kitchen diner. At 2AM, most self-respecting soldiers would be in bed getting what little ‘beauty sleep’ they could afford, but Hana was hungry, frustrated, downright depressed and-

And apparently, so was one Hanzo Shimada, who stared at her placidly from behind a steaming cup of what she could only assume was either _gyokuro_ or hot sake, depending on his mood.

As she caught his eye, he bowed his head slightly, which she reciprocated with a nod of her own and a murmured ‘Hanzo-san’. The man raised an eyebrow in response, clearly more interested in Hana now, and he set his mug down on the table.

“Hana. You are aware that we have not used honorifics to refer to each other for a while now.”

Hanzo spoke as regal as ever, and his tone sent a shiver down her spine; _he can tell something is wrong_ , she thought. Though she hadn’t intended to make conversation this late at night (or early in the morning, depending on your perspective) she decided that it was probably for the best not to deny a moment of one-to-one interaction in a base where privacy was seldom seen. She grimaced as she pulled a bowl of leftover _kushari_ from the fridge (thanks, Ana) and headed over to where Hanzo was sitting at the breakfast bar. She intended to sit opposite him as was custom for their brief interactions, but he cleared his discarded jacket from the stool next to him – a silent invitation for her to join him on his side of the table.

When she reached the table, she set her bowl down and hopped up on to the stool and suddenly realised how many hours it had been since she had sat down; choosing to ignore the food for now, she folded her arms on the table and rested her head on them, adjusting so she could see Hanzo clearly. From the smell emanating from his cup, and from him, she could tell the drink was indeed sake. Before she could comment about Hanzo’s drinking habits, he adjusted to face her, his eyes searching hers for some indication of the problem at hand.

“Talk to me.”

And so she talked. She talked about all of the terrible things she had seen that day, and how the scenes playing out in front of her reminded her of when the Giant Omnic from the Sea attacked Busan, and New Busan, and how she had witnessed the faces of women and men contort in pain, shock, realisation that they were going to die. Hana spoke of how the missions of the past few weeks had progressively gotten worse, and it seemed as though Talon, Vishkar, LumeriCo and all of Overwatch’s enemies were getting closer to her and this small family she had surrounded herself with and came to love. Hanzo listened intently as Hana Song’s eyes filled with tears when she told him that she wished that it had been her in the place of every single civilian she had ever watched die, which was not a sign of altruism, of sacrifice, of total empathy, but rather stemmed from her own selfishness and often overwhelming desire to drop off of the face of the earth. She had watched her home be destroyed; she had watched her family, her friends, her _people_ slaughtered; she had entered the ranks of Overwatch knowing that it could – would – happen again, knowing that people would sacrifice themselves for her and despising the fact that she was too selfish to throw herself into the ocean and take down as many of her foes as she could along with her.

“For all of the love I get from my fans, and all the press I get from the public, it can’t silence these…” Hana trailed off, trying and failing to find the right word.

“Demons.” Hanzo muttered, finishing her sentence for her. Hana’s head snapped up. A part of her had forgotten that he was there, as he had remained silent throughout her rant; his eyes, still locked on to hers, conveyed a knowing look that sent a pang of guilt rumbling through Hana’s body. _He can relate_ , she thought. She nodded hastily and sighed, wiping the tears from her face. Hanzo offered her a spare handkerchief from the depths of his pocket – to his credit, it looked extremely clean – and she took it gratefully, dabbing at her puffy cheeks.

“Hana…” Hanzo began slowly, clearly trying to choose his words carefully, not wanting to appear condescending to the girl he had come to see as more of a younger sister than a member of his strike team, “thank you for sharing this with me. I know it can be extremely difficult to shoulder these burdens alone. Sharing these with people can help you.”

Hana smiled at him and threw up a weak victory sign, causing Hanzo to chuckle lightly. At least she retained her cheeky attitude, regardless of how much of a front it was. Hana cleared her throat and sat up, taking out a pair of chopsticks and starting to eat her meal as Hanzo continued.

“There’s no shame in feeling like this, you know. I’d wager that many soldiers suffer from- this. Whatever it is. PTSD, depression, anxiety…” Hanzo paused as D.Va winced with a mouthful of pasta, but carried on speaking. “Like I said, there’s nothing shameful about mental illness, Hana. It is just as big a part of life as physical illness.” _Probably much more so,_ he wanted to say, but he kept this to himself.

Hana chewed thoughtfully as his words sunk in. Finally, she placed her chopsticks down on her plate, and as Hanzo downed the last of his sake, she realised that she wasn’t in the mood for sleeping.

“What should I do, Hanzo?”

Hanzo blinked and hummed.

“Well, I am by no means a trained professional – I mean, I have suffered from depression – I still do – but I think in your case-”

“No, dummy, I mean: what should I do now?” Hana giggled, shushing Hanzo with a wave of her hand. He once more raised an eyebrow at her in response. “I appreciate your advice, Han, but I think right now I just need a distraction. I can think about the… long term stuff once I’ve had more sleep.”

Hanzo stared at her incredulously for a moment before settling back into his relaxed pose. He looked borderline tipsy at this point, and Hana was sure that he would not have been so open to Hana’s onslaught of emotions (and even reciprocated them to some degree) if he had not had at least three or four cups of sake. She wasn’t one to complain, though, as moments like this with Hanzo Shimada were extremely rare. She remembered the day they were introduced, and how she thought that he would never open up to the rest of the group, despite Genji’s protests that he was in reality a good man, just a little lost and confused. That was putting it lightly, and it had taken months for Hanzo to come out of his shell; but just as soon as she had begun to give up hope on him, she found him up late one night in the very same kitchen they were currently sat in wearing a Starcraft t-shirt, and after bugging him ecstatically for what seemed like hours he finally admitted to having watched a number of her tournaments. _Finally,_ she had thought, her heart suddenly swelling, _this is how our friendship begins._ After finding friendship with Hana, he soon found camaraderie with Reinhardt, developed a friendship with Mei and Satya, began a love/hate relationship with McCree, confided in Zenyatta and started to trust the various members of Overwatch that he had now begun to think of as family. And, more importantly, he had renewed his brotherhood with Genji, and the two of them were almost inseparable. Maybe it was the tiredness setting in after a long day, or the fact that she had finally released a lot of built-up tension by verbally assaulting Hanzo with long-kept secrets, that made her suddenly feel a lot better than she had felt for the past few weeks.

While Hana was lost in contemplation, Hanzo stood and walked over to the old music station in the corner of the room, switching it on and hitting the shuffle button. He then walked back over to Hana’s stool and extended a hand. She seemed to snap out of her reverie when the music began and was now looking at him questioningly, with her head tilted slightly.

“Dance with me, Hana.” It wasn’t a question. Hana blinked rapidly as she looked from Hanzo’s determined face to his hand and back again. He smiled charmingly at her. “Think of it as a way to unwind after a long day. Join me.”

“You know, back when you first joined, I never imagined this would be a thing,” Hana remarked, shaking her head in disbelief as she took Hanzo’s hand and stood from her stool, “dancing with a Shimada. What an honour!” She exclaimed and bowed mockingly, to which Hanzo scoffed and repeated the gesture in an even more exaggerated way. The pair laughed together and joined hands once more as the music played on in the background.

_“Well, you done done me and you bet I felt it, I tried to be chill, but you're so hot that I melted…”_

“Man, this song is _old!_ Whose playlist is this?” Hana pondered aloud.

“I believe it is a collaborative effort between multiple members of Overwatch, though I believe Jesse to be the culprit given his tastes.” Hanzo replied, as he spun her gracefully. He was a much more competent dancer than she had imagined him to be; though, to be fair, he was born into nobility.

_“But I won't hesitate, no more, no more…”_

Even if the style of dance they had chosen wasn’t particularly fitting for this type of music, Hana was feeling much more relaxed, and the theme of the song was making her feel better with each passing second. It reminded her of her first love, back when she was much too young to be burdened with the looming threat of the Omnic Crisis, the ideals of multiple world leaders, the corruption of huge conglomerates and the cries of those oppressed by them. She closed her eyes and leaned into Hanzo’s chest, and he pulled her slightly closer as they moved around the kitchen, humming along to the tune and giggling at each other every now and then when their feet collided, or when they attempted to go in opposite directions.

_“But my breath fogged up the glass; and so I drew a new face and I laughed...”_

Hana was reminded of simpler times when she had looked out from the roof of her apartment building in Seoul, surrounded by friends who had long since disappeared; of the time she ate ice cream on her journey home from school and watched a super moon rise above the skyscrapers; of the time she had made her country proud by winning in the international Starcraft tournament and resolved to come back and retain that title the following year, and every year after that.

_“Well, open up your mind and see like me, open up your plans and damn you're free. Look into your heart and you'll find that the sky is yours…”_

_Sometimes,_ she thought to herself, as she opened her eyes to see that Hanzo was staring wistfully at nothing in particular, a faint smile tugging at his lips, _all you can do is distract yourself from what’s going on around you, even for the briefest of moments._ Hanzo noticed that she was staring at him and he looked down at her, his smile widening, causing the lines around his eyes to crease slightly. _And sometimes,_ she thought, as she offered a genuine grin back at him, _all you have to do is trust your friends to come up with a plan to make you feel better._

As one song blended into the next, and the pair continued to dance in silence, she resolved that that was the wisest thought she had had all day.

 

 


End file.
